The Quiet That Follows
by jennycaakes
Summary: Peeta tries to keep Gale's head on straight with a memory from the past. MadgexGale. Peeta/Gale almost-friendship. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games and their characters are not of my creation.**

_A/N: The timeline has been changed a bit._**  
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Gale throws his hands down angrily; his plans never work out right. All he has to do is help Beetee invent new weapons but he's not entirely too good at the mechanics. His mother tells him he should sleep, it'll help him think, but that's the problem. Gale never _stops _thinking and it makes everything worse.

With a sigh he pulls his hands through his hair, talking a step backwards from his workstation. Gale needs some air. Actually, he needs something to drink, but considering District 13 doesn't allow alcohol he doubts he'll find anything of use.

As he turns away from his blueprints and crumpled paper he catches sight of a blonde that doesn't belong here. No guards, no supervision. Peeta Mellark looks a lot less lost than he should.

Gale scrunches his nose and leans backwards against his desk.

"What are you doing here, Mellark?" Gale's fingers trail the wooden carvings he'd made in his desk when his mind had wandered. He's sure Peeta could explode any minute considering he's still hyped up on Tracker Jacker venom. Best to take things slow. "Where're your bodyguards?"

Peeta snorts, taking another step into the room. "I think you could handle me if I were going to snap," he sneers.

Gale's pretty sure he likes the old Peeta better. The kind-hearted, completely intolerable because he was picture perfect, Peeta. Not this cold one. It doesn't suit him in the least.

"Didn't answer my question," says Gale as he lifts his arms across his chest. "What are you doing here?"

Again Peeta takes a step into the room, his eyebrows lifted in some sort of question. Gale nods, showing Peeta he's allowed in. From the corner of his eye Gale can see the cuffs that latch around both of Peeta's wrists, keeping him restrained, and although he was right when Peeta said Gale could handle him, he doesn't want to have to.

"We started this new thing in therapy," Peeta tells him. "Real or not real."

Peeta quickly takes the time to explain the basis of the game. Statements, followed by the question, answered with the truth. It's supposed to help him remember. But Gale doesn't care, why should he?

"Listen, Mellark. We weren't exactly friends. I don't know anything about your life and I'm not your damn therapist. I don't—"

"I remembered someone," Peeta adds. "A girl."

"What makes you think that I—"

"Her name is Madge," says Peeta. "Madge Undersee. Is she real or not real?" Gale blinks a few time, thrown off kilter from the question.

Eventually he regains his balance. "What sort of joke is this?" he hisses in response. "I don't know what kind of _game_ you're playing but this isn't funny." Peeta smiles at the ground, but it isn't wicked like it has been of late. It's almost like the Peeta from before and it unnerves him. "Why're you smiling?"

"You're the only one that won't play." Gale locks his jaw and narrows his gaze. "She lived in our District, right?" As an afterthought Peeta adds, "Real or not real?"

Eventually Gale forces out, "Real."

Peeta busies himself, studying the grids and eraser shavings that cover Gale's cluttered desk. "She was in my grade."

Another, "Real."

Again Peeta smiles, turning back to face the brooding man in front of him. "Yeah, I thought so. See sometimes I remember things that don't really make sense." Gale stays frozen as Peeta takes another step towards him. "So I'm not really sure if they're real… or not real. You get it?"

"Yeah," Gale mutters. "I get it."

"I think I was friends with her for a really long time," Peeta continues as his eyes graze over half-drawn blueprints. He makes a face at one of them and then pushes another piece of paper over it so he doesn't have to look at it anymore. Bombs. "Before the Games. Sort of like a sister."

"That's great," Gale says quietly. "Can you go?"

"I have more questions," Peeta frowns. Gale knows full well that Peeta can't ask Katniss, in fear of setting something off inside his venom filled brain. The quickest way to get rid of Peeta Mellark is to play along to play along with his pathetic game. "So this Madge girl," he begins again. "Do you know her?"

"That isn't a real or not real answer," Gale snaps.

Peeta lifts one of his eyebrows amusedly and tries again. "You know Madge Undersee. Real or not real."

After a long time Gale responds, "Not real."

"Not real?"

"Not real," Gale confirms. The answer rings hollow in his throat. "Not anymore."

"Oh," Peeta digs the handcuffs into his wrists. Gale represses the urge to flinch when he sees the dark haze visibly seep from Peeta's eyes, the boy he once knew fighting against the Capitol version of himself. "You _knew _Madge Undersee. Real or—"

Gale cuts him off. "Real."

The baker's eyes take on a depressed shade of blue, one that isn't controlled by the venom that dances in his blood. "She's dead." Gale doesn't answer, instead he lowers himself to a kneel and starts picking up crumpled pieces of paper and tossing them into the wastebasket. "Real or not real?" Still he doesn't respond. "Real or not real!"

"I don't know," Gale snaps, chucking a piece of paper into the bin. It misses, bouncing off the rim and a few feet before Peeta. "Alright? I don't know." Gale drops his head into his hands and pushes his callused palms against his eyes.

He should know. Gale _should _know the answer to that question. The answer _should_ be _not real_. The answer should be that Madge Undersee is here in District 13 alongside everyone else, but in the midst of the bombing he panicked.

Madge was the last thing on his mind at that point. If it came down to it he figured that she was protected by the Capitol, by her father's status. But now, he's not so sure. Not after all the waiting.

The Capitol would have loved to rub in the fact that the Mayor of District 12 and his family were all against the rebels. Or on the flip-side they would have loved to flaunt the fact that they had the Mayor and his family _hostage_. Neither has occurred.

"She saved your life, I think." Peeta wrinkles his eyebrows, reaching down to grab the piece of paper that didn't make it to the wastebasket. "See, I'm confused. She brought… brought you morphling after you were whipped." Gale nods, rather than answering. With a deep breath he drops his hands and forces himself to stand so he's looking down on Peeta rather than looking at him. "But you hated each other."

"Not real."

"So she did save your life?"

"Real."

"Did you hate each other then?" Gale doesn't respond on account of the actual question. Peeta frowns and rephrases his statement as he stands. "You hated each other when she brought you morphling."

He swallows once. "Not… not real." He's never hated her.

There was a time in which Gale hated what Madge stood for. How her wealth and prosperity glistened when nothing else in their District did. He hated that she didn't have to take out tesserae but never went to bed hungry. He hated how she was so good at getting inside his head, how she knew exactly what to say to make him pause.

But he didn't hate _her__. _He didn't hate Madge's quiet voice or her soft hands. He didn't hate her pretty dresses or her shy smile. He didn't hate her laughter or her breath against his skin as she whispered him secrets.

Gale sucks his teeth and turns to the blonde who's lifting himself from the ground, the boy that could be Madge's brother if he hadn't know any better. Their normally quiet demeanor and sandy blonde hair that matched and their naturally curious blue eyes. He snaps his eyes away from him in pain.

"I'm done with this," Gale mutters, nudging a wide eyed Peeta toward the door. "I can't, I don't—"

"I'm just trying to remember," Peeta responds angrily. The Capitol is rearing their ugly head back into the equation. As he reaches the door Peeta turns back to Gale. "But I guess if anything had been going on I wouldn't exactly have known, would I?"

Gale's eyes flutter shut as he forces the memory from his head. The way Peeta opened the door without knocking, finding Gale with his hands tangled in Madge's hair. The awkward conversation that ensued. The laughter that tinkled from the mayor's daughter so peacefully, the kisses she delivered to Gale in an apology for embarrassing him in front of Peeta. The truce between all three of them to never mention it again.

His stomach twists.

"Is she dead, Gale?"

"No," he answers, though his voice is weak. "She can't be, she—she isn't." Gale shakes his head. Madge can't be dead. He would know, he'd be able to feel it. Right? He'll deny it until it's proven otherwise. "I don't know." With a grunt Gale throws his hands down. "Mellark, just go. Get out. Leave me alone."

Peeta rests on the doorframe and lets his eyes study Gale. "I never hated you," he tells him calmly. "I was jealous of you for awhile, but I never hated you."

"Mellark—"

"Just listen to me," Peeta frowns. Not wanting to upset the blonde due to the modifications the Capitol has made on him, Gale clamps his lips shut. "I always thought you were really brave, really determined. I never thought you were cruel either, just misguided. That's why when I found out you were making weapons I knew you weren't doing it out of hate, you were doing it because you didn't know what else to do. You're scared."

Gale lets this process for a moment, the fact that Peeta has always seen him as straying from the path he was supposed to be on. It makes his heart jump into his throat because Gale had never really liked Peeta, but Peeta had always respected Gale.

Peeta continues slowly, "Just think about why you're fighting, Gale."

"I'm fighting because of poverty," Gale responds strongly. He's tired of Peeta trying to analyze him like he's the victim. "Starvation. The killing of innocent children. Torture. I'm fighting because I want a better tomorrow."

"Not because you've lost someone that keeps you on your path?" Gale tries to swallow but it's thick in his throat. "You can fight for a better tomorrow without designing weapons like that," Peeta says, his eyes quickly darting to the design left out. "You're stooping to their level."

"I'm making the fight even," Gale hisses back.

"You think she's dead."

Gale finally forces the saliva down his throat.

"What?"

"Madge, you think she's dead."

Their eyes lock and burn through each other. Peeta doesn't hold any bit of malice, in fact his gaze seems apologetic. In fact he looks as if he's about to cry, as if he didn't mean to stoop so low. But Gale, his eyebrows are narrowed and his eyes are on their target, trying to piece together the broken confused bits that remain of Peeta Mellark.

"You never forgot her, did you?" Peeta pulls his shoulders up a bit and tries to press a smile to his lips. He's unsuccessful. "Then what are—"

"I'm trying to make sure _you_ don't forget her," Peeta says. "Sure, I don't remember it all. Half of it's fuzzy, half of it's fake. But there's something about the way you two looked at each other that sticks in my head. And I know, Gale I _know_ that if she was here you wouldn't be doing this!" Peeta gestures to all the blueprints on his desk. All the eraser marks and broken pencil tips. "You're not a killer, Gale!"

"They really brainwashed you, Mellark," Gale finally spits out with as much strength as he can manage. "If you think someone like Madge Undersee wanted to be with someone like me."

"Gale,"

"Get out," he growls again, lurching toward where the blonde stands. "_Go_!"

Peeta flinches and takes a step backwards. The baker isn't fully overtaken by his demons. "You're lying. I know you're lying. You're just scared," Peeta tells him.

Gale shakes his head and says, "Not real."

"Maybe not scared of the Capitol," Peeta calls over his shoulder as he walks away. His voice is nearly empty, he isn't a mutt after all. "But that she's really gone."

The door slams shut as Peeta exits, leaving Gale alone in his workspace. He wants to follow him, throw him against the wall and pound his knuckles into the Victor's throat, demanding an explanation, but he can't. Because Gale isn't a killer, or someone who wants to hurt anyone, just like Peeta said.

And in the quiet that follows Peeta's absence Gale sinks to the floor, his back against a wall and his head in his hands. And he can't breathe, he can't _breathe_, because everything he said is _real_. And he's known it from the start.


End file.
